


Song of the Sea

by orphan_account



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Ethari, Child Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Don't lose the child, Ethari is trying his best, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Parent Runaan (The Dragon Prince), Parenting 101, Pirate!AU, technically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 08:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22967113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: As losses swirled around him, he played. Losing himself to the music. Swaying, like a reed in the fields of Katolis. He didn't notice the small elf in the corner of the adjacent cell. Rayla hoped he never would.
Relationships: Callum & Claudia (The Dragon Prince), Callum & Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Callum & Soren (The Dragon Prince), Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Ethari & Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince), Rayla/Everyone
Comments: 20
Kudos: 57





	1. Bow

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! I just got deeply engaged with TDP and I ended up doing this instead of updating other fanfics. Whoops! I mean, at least I did work..? Anyways, this was inspired by @thenerdyalchemist and their amazing pirate!AU. Go see their tumblr at https://thenerdyalchemist.tumblr.com/ ! Also, in this chapter, the words equal up to exactly 2020 words. Go figure. Happy super late New Year, I guess?

Walking along the beach of Alorminia, Ethari felt the wind blow its sea-salty breath onto his already salt-encrusted clothes. Rayla giggled, letting the waves’ spray pelt her face. The colors of the pier rushed in, a whorl of blues and browns and yellows on the winding beaches. The sound of children laughing echoed in Ethari’s ears. Children rolled in the sand, making miniature dust-storms in their wake, as parents, disapproving and encouraging alike, followed in tow. The sand felt like satin under their callused, well-worn feet. Rayla smiled at the other children’s antics, but made no move to follow. Ethari wondered when their little girl went from exploring everything and escaping his and Runaan’s grasps to mellowly holding onto their hands as they went exploring through new towns and cities beside the sea. As he stood there, lost in memories of long, long ago, Rayla turned her eyes toward him and tugged on his shirt. He turned his gaze to her, and she beamed at her adoptive father with the warmth of a sunbeam on a cloudy day. Ethari returned the favor, giddy from the feeling of stable land- at least, as stable as sand can be- underneath his heels. He could see Runaan making his way towards one of the sandside stores, already haggling for a better price on a pair of bandanas. At the moment, Runaan looked deep in thought, his brow furrowed like the loose plank he had fixed at sea the night before. Sweat glistened on his brow, reflecting off the blue henna-like tattoos that defined his entire identity, his silvery-white hair untied and flowing off his shoulders like the many waterfalls he and Ethari have passed by under the light of the moon. Ethari’s gaze moved down towards his waist and noticed that Runaan’s purse had already shrunk, albeit not by much, the leather rope that bound the pocket was a little slack and Ethari had a slight pang of anxiety overtake him. ‘What if he had been pickpocketed?’ Ethari shook his head slightly, his slightly spiked hair swaying in time with his head movement. ‘No,’ he said to himself, ‘the king of the pirates wouldn’t possibly allow himself to be pickpocketed.’ He strolled toward his husband, the sand shifting beneath his feet to accommodate his weight. Runaan snapped out of his trance and turned slightly to look at his first mate. “Runaan?” 

“Ethari.”

“What are you haggling for?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Despite his cold and harsh words, Ethari could sense his affectionate tone. ‘What a grouch I married. Can’t even show his love. Well, two can play at that game.’

“Dear, we don’t need to distract this merchant anymore. We can get a cheaper bandana at the other store.”

He kissed his husband’s forehead, ignoring the faint saltiness of his sweat, for the sake of the performance. The recipient looked at him with confusion in his eyes but caught on in a split second. He faked acquiescence. His blush from the kiss, however, was genuine. They acted like they were moving on. The merchant spluttered. 

“W-wait! I can give it to you for 10 coppers! 10!”

Runaan stopped in his tracks. Ethari, sensing that this was an exponentially better deal than before, based on his spouse’s actions, waited for his husband to pay for the clothing. Rayla bounced up and down on her heels, violet eyes wide and sparkling, taking in the hustle and bustle of the town. Now that he was closer, Ethari took a good look at the merchant. The merchant was well-rounded, as if he had eaten a few steaks too many for his body to have handled it nicely. His voice, though rough-sounding at first listen, was oily and sent uncomfortable shivers down his spine. The next time the two had eye contact, Ethari gave a half-lidded glare at the shopkeeper, making the man’s wattle tremble. After Runaan had finished his purchase, the group plodded on with the nearest produce shop in mind. As the ground turned from sand to hard-packed mud to cobblestone and the open airs of the beach turned to crowded wooden stalls and people from all sides, the two pirates argued over what to buy for the ship with playful tones, with Rayla adding her own two cents every once in a while.

“...so there, Runii! Fruits are a must!”

“They’re expensive, you big buffoon.”

“Hey! I’m only a little bit taller than you!”

Rayla chipped in, “You guys are both the same height to me! You two are so silly!”

The group laughed, each in their own ways. Runaan looked forwards. “We’ve reached the produce stalls. Why don’t you two go look for some treats or something? I heard Alorminia has the best sugared apples.” Ethari and Rayla bobbed their heads up and down like birds, making Runaan chuckle. He made a shooing motion. “Go on, you two.” The two scuttled off, disappearing into the crowd. 

Ethari and Rayla strolled through the marketplace, searching for the sweet stands. People who noticed their markings kept a wide berth around them, much to their degree of comfort and space. Rayla frowned at the looks of fear on some of the people’s faces. “Why are some of them scared of us, Papa?” Her wobbly voice caught him off guard and he crouched to her eye level. “My little Rayla, you mustn’t be afraid of them. They may seem afraid of us, but that’s just because they’ve been taught to do so.” He winced inwardly at the lie. “Really?”

“Yes, my little albatross.”

“Okay!” Her smile came back full force. He stood up, searching for the stands once more. Much to their annoyance, there was a large crowd of people in the way of the streets stand that were watching a group of dancers pirouette in the square, stopping their adventure in their tracks. The jolly music of harmonicas and banjos filled the air with whoops of joy and yelling. Rayla sighed in disappointment. “I guess we should go back to Dad now.” Her ears drooped. She turned around and started walking back. A call from Ethari stopped her. “Rayla! I’ve found a little passageway. Wanna try?” She did a full 180 to see her father point to a narrow streetway. Her ears went back to full mast. “Yeah!” She ran to Ethari, renewed delight scrawled onto her features. 

The streetway was narrow, but it was still full of people. Elves of all kinds strolled through it, but more humans than elves manned the stalls. Ethari began to suspect something was wrong when he accidentally bumped into someone and a small, bejeweled dagger fell out of the hooded stranger’s clothes. His mind whirled with worry, but he tamped it down for the sake of his daughter. ‘Why am I so scared, anyway? This is an elf-friendly town and nobody is foolish enough to attack the family of the most famous pirate of this time. What is there to worry?’ As the streetway narrowed even further, his anxiety rose, until it reached his throat. ‘Something is wrong!’ He whirled around in a hasty frenzy, but nothing caught his eye. A tug on his clothing turned his gaze back downwards. “What’s wrong, Papa?” Rayla’s confused eyes acted as an anchor point for the antsy elf. His breathing slowed. His pulse stopped beating in his ears like a frantic drum. “N-nothing, sweetheart. I thought I-I saw something,” he stuttered. The road had narrowed to a one-person space only and alarm bells were ringing in his head like a death knell. He turned around. The hooded stranger from earlier was not far behind them. His mind raced. “H-how-”

“Did you think that we humans couldn’t do magic, too? Too bad. Hand the girl over.”

“N-no. This is my daughter.”

The stranger chuckled. “Really, now? Then why does she have the pirate king’s markings and you don’t?”

Ethari did a double take. “What?”

“Come on. Did you think that I would be that foolish?”

“I have the markings too.”

Ethari bared his arms, showing off the faintly-glowing markings. The human gasped quietly, a noise that Ethari barely heard, even with his sensitive hearing. The human shook their head.  
“Unfortunately, my client told me the girl, and the girl only. If you won’t cooperate, we’ll take her by force.”

Ethari’s heart stopped. “We?”

The human looked at him, eyes glinting electric blue in the shaded darkness of the alley. “Yes, we. Who do you think was the first alerter to your presence? The people who were peddlers in the so-called ‘streetway’? We were all waiting for you, and you walked straight into our traps.”

The figure held their hand out. “Now, hand her over.”

Ethari bristled. “No! How dare you! We have not done a single thing to you or your city!”

“Very well then, we’ll do it the fun way. Suit yourself.”

Men began to surround the way the two came from. Ethari glanced back to see men cover the other way out of the alley. He raised his arms into a guard position, poised to fight. Rayla cowered beside him, trembling in fear. 

The human raised their arms and stood there, static, unmoving. Ethari waited, breath held, ready for their first word. The human exhaled, and Ethari tensed. The slightest word fell from their lips. “Move.” And the men came from all sides. Ethari fell under a flurry of punches and kicks. He was strong, as he was a pirate and a former blacksmith, but even then, he could not fight against so many assailants unarmed. Pain flared from every point of contact, and Ethari cried out in pain whenever someone hit him in an extremely painful spot. His sight began to flicker, and with one last burst of strength, he reached out to his daughter, miraculously untouched other than a few jostles here and there. Rayla grabbed his hand one last time, and his mind went dark. His limp body fell to the floor, unmoving. Rayla shrieked in fear, concern, and sadness. “Papa!?” Hands grabbed her from all angles. She fought with them, desperation leaking into her features. A sharp tang assaulted her nostrils, and within a few seconds, she had followed her father into the realms of unrestful rest. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ethari awoke to sharp pain all over his body and the concerned face of his husband. He hazily sat up, much to Runaan’s relief. “Oh my Xadia! Are you okay?” He drowsily smiled at his husband. He slurred, “Sure. I ‘eel fine. ‘ere’s ‘Ayla?” He looked around in confusion. “Yeah, that was my next question too. Where’s Rayla?” With those words, his anxiety skyrocketed. He shook himself out of his daze with a predatorial growl. “That little bastard- I’m gonna’ put ‘im in a barrel-” Ethari muttered, eyes taking on a deadly shade of anger. Runaan, confused, inquired, “What do you mean? Who are you talking about?” Ethari looked up at his concerned partner, and with a deep undertone of outrage at the hooded human, retold his story to Runaan. As the story went on, Runaan began to growl himself, and by the end of the tale, was already on his feet. “And that’s it? He’s just.. Gone? You let him?” Incredulity filled his tone and Ethari hissed in annoyance. “You blockhead. I just said that I tried my best to fight back! There were too many-” 

“You still let him!”

“I tried my best!”

“It wasn’t enough!”

“I couldn’t do anything!” 

“Rayla’s gone!” Ethari snapped his mouth closed. “She’s gone, Ethari. And it’s all your fault.”

Rage clouded his husband’s features. The face he had grown to love, to cherish, to care for with all his heart- Tears welled up under his eyelids, threatening to spill out onto the ground below. He turned around, sobbing, and ran in the direction he had entered. Tears altered his vision. His ears heard nothing but the echoes of “It’s all your fault.” His mind, usually full of words and thoughts, was silent, as if punishing him for his failure. “It’s all your fault.”

“It’s all your fault.”

“She’s gone….And it’s all your fault.”


	2. Scabbard

Rayla was falling. Falling, like a feather from the seagulls she loved to watch so intently with her parents. Deep, in the cold darkness of forceful rest. Her hands felt feather light, her eyes felt like lead. She knew she had to reach her fathers, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t touch, couldn’t reach- She could see nothing, but she could see everything. She could see her Papa, unconscious on the floor, and her Dad, pacing back and forth in a frenzy. She could see the looks of horror in the eyes of some of the men that had hurt her Papa, hurt her Dad, made her cry. She couldn’t help but forgive them. She was sure that this was all an accident. That they meant to snatch another girl. But the hooded guy’s words echoed in her subconscious. They said they wanted her, and it made her feel… terrified? Sad? She didn’t know, just like how she didn’t know how to comfort Dad when he was sad and sniffly and all messy. Just like she wanted to know then, she wanted to know now, how to hold her Daddy’s hand and tell him that everything was alright, that their little girl was safe and sound… But no matter how hard she tried, her mouth would not open and her vocal chords refused to play a single note. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to understand why her Papa was running away, hiding in the bustling crowd, from Dad. Why her Dad and her Papa were crying, alone in the masses, separated from each other even as they mourned in tandem for her fate. She wanted to feel the rough calluses of the crewmates again, the soft feathers of the seagull that always followed her around. She wanted to taste the briney spray from the sea that she refuses to dive into, the cold treats that she and Papa loved to seek out from their nomadic adventures through the local markets. But, even as she drowned in air, hair whipping around her face like the sail in a powerful storm, she wanted OUT. She wanted to be released from this prison, the shackles of sleep that bound her to her unconscious. She tugged at the chains, feeling hysteria clawing its way up her throat. With one final sigh, she stopped resisting the flow of time and allowed herself to fall down, down, down….

A shiver snapped her back into the physical word, and each waft of cold air brought her closer to full consciousness. ‘Where.. am I?’ She opened her eyes, trying- and failing- to blink out the film that covered her violet eyes. She felt cold bars around her, and she shifted slightly in order to stop the rusty metal bars of her cage from digging into her thighs. The rope binding around her wrists chafed her flesh slightly, and she winced from the friction. The sound of mature voices, both male and female, caught her attention. “The girl is only 10! You can’t possibly…”

“We must...Pirate..”

“Your Majesty…. Hasn’t been trained..”

Rayla strained to hear what they were saying. ‘Their accents are so different compared to Dad and Papa’s…Am I still in Alorminia?’

“The girl couldn’t possibly become the next Pirate King!”

Oh, their voices were getting louder.

“Yes, she can. Any pirate could become the next Pirate King!”

That man.. His voice sounds familiar, but she couldn’t quite place from where.

“Normis.”

“The Pirate King’s partner was no better. He flashed his weaselly eyes at me when I was spying on them!”

Oh, now she knew. ‘That roundish merchant was a spy? I didn’t think about his behavior that deeply.. No wonder Papa and Dad had been able to stay safe for so long! But then..’ She frowned. ‘Then I came along. They had to worry about me. That’s why Papa got hurt in the first place.’ She bowed her head from the uncomfortable position she was in. ‘It was my fault that this all happened. He was hurt, and it was all my fault. All my fault… All my fault.’ The thoughts rattled in her mind, destroying all of her other thoughts. ‘It was my fault, wasn’t it? If I hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have had to defend me. It was all my fault.’ Her eyes began to itch, and she struggled to wipe them without creating any noises that would alert them to her consciousness. She heard a clatter, and her heart dropped in tandem with the spike of fear that impaled it. The dreadlocked man, the one they kept calling ‘King Harrow’, had stood up from his ornately-decorated chair. His forehead flashed with sweat, and beads of the fluid had traveled down the man’s chiseled face, much to the confusion of the young girl. ‘It’s cold in here. Why is the man sweating?’ He cleared his throat, a deep “ahem” rumbling through the air like the panther’s growl. The entire room went silent. “We must not think too hastily. We must not execute the girl. She is too young for us to determine what she will be like as she grows up.” His baritone voice was deep and strange, but it comforted Rayla like a rough-shod fiber blanket on a cold and starry night. She relaxed, her shoulders drooping ever so slightly. ‘I don’t know what ‘eggs-e-cute’ means, but it sounded bad. Or maybe..’ She tilted her head, confused. ‘Cute eggs? I’ve heard someone call me that. Are they.. complimenting me?’ Perplexed by this turn of events, she chose to stay silent instead of voicing her confusion out loud, an action that would most definitely speed the debate up. “My lord!” A woman shot out of her seat like one of Runaan’s cannonballs. “What would decide to do instead? Keep her within these castle walls to spy on us? We cannot trust-” King Harrow held up a gold-encrusted hand, and she halted her barrage. “Opeli.” The lady, newly dubbed ‘Opeli’, shifted at the mention of her name. “We will not let her stay in the guest chambers.” Opeli’s tense position softened, and she began to take her chair once more. “But.” She stopped moving as if she had been frozen in time. “We will not execute her until a final decision is made. Take her to the jail cells.” 

“M-my lord! I-”

“Opeli!” The firmness made clear in his tone made everyone in the room flinch, including Rayla. “Do your duty and take her to the jails. She must not be interrogated until a final order is made. Have I made myself clear?” King Harrow looked upon her in annoyance. Opeli curstied hastily and squeaked out a feeble “Yes, my lord.” She turned toward Rayla’s cage. Rayla’s eyes widened in fear. ‘What are they doing to me?’ Opeli kneeled down to open the cage and was met with a small growl, not unlike a young guard dog. She recoiled slightly, then bent down to see the young girl baring her teeth toward her like an enraged hunting dog. “Your Majesty. The girl is awake.” Murmurs of shock and worry reverberated around the room. “How will we transport the girl there?” A voice pierced the tense atmosphere. King Harrow frowned. “Try to take her out. If she struggles, keep her in the cage.” Rayla shuddered. She did not like the cage. It felt so alien, so different from the open seas and decks that she loved to roam. Opeli kneeled down and ruffled around in her robes. After a few moments of searching, she pulled out a small copper key with a quiet “Aha!” She gently inserted the key into the lock that kept the cage’s door shut and began to turn it in different directions. A soft click signalled that her efforts were not in vain. She slowly opened up the cage door. Rayla cowered in the very corner of the small enclosure, terrified of the woman who was now reaching into her space. Opeli noticed her apprehension and drew back, worried. Rayla uncurled herself to take a better look at her. Her long, flowing hair was touching the ground, cleaning the smooth stone floor of the throne room. It framed her oval face like curtains, reminding Rayla of the caramel-colored curtains that Ethari had bought for the couple’s 5 year anniversary. She smiled, no longer the scary woman that had been arguing with the king not long ago. She extended her hand out tentatively, and the woman’s much larger, rougher hand tenderly clasped it. “Hey, there.” Her melodic voice calmed Rayla down a little, quelling her fears temporarily. She took a deep, calming breath. ‘Maybe… everything will be fine.’

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Everything was most definitely NOT FINE. Rayla whimpered underneath the board that doubled as her bed. ‘I don’t like this.. I don’t… don’t…I want Papa...Dad..’ Tears brewed in her eyes, and she let them fall, crystalline droplets twinkling like diamonds in the night-time. “I want to go home…” She curled up into a ball, wishing with all her heart to be back in her parents’ arms, to be back on the ship, frolicking with the crewmates… anything but this. The cold stone sucked away her heat, her love, her happiness… She weeped, letting her sniffles echo into the unyielding stone walls. Her dad was always holding back his emotions, but she wasn’t him, and she let the tears flow like twin rivers, moistening her bluish tattoos. The sound of sniffling echoed back to her, but it sounded… different. Soft footsteps padded on the stone-covered ground, and she shot up, ears perking up ever-so-slightly. ‘Dad? Papa?’ The sniffles continued, and Rayla realized that there was no way it could be her parents. She sighed and fell to the floor, tears continuing to flow freely down her face. She turned her head and gasped silently at who it was. It was a small boy, younger than her for sure, toting a small satchel-sketchbook and a long, winding scarf that trailed down every stair he had previously stepped on like a bridal trail. The boy himself looked no better than her, nose red and yellow in the torchlight, eyes puffy and swollen. He hiccuped, a pathetic noise that would’ve driven her to comfort him, if she wasn’t trapped in a cell. With a jolt, she realized that there were no guards accompanying him. ‘If he hadn’t done something wrong, like me, then why is he here?’ She watched, confused, as the boy plodded over to a nearby jail-bench. He unwound his scarf and turned to the side, revealing his rounded ears. He disappeared into the shadows of an adjacent cell, leaving Rayla to wonder what the boy was doing. A few minutes passed, then she heard a quiet ‘twang’ sound from within. The boy walked out, holding a wooden instrument that Rayla couldn’t recognize. ‘What is he doing?’ He began to pluck it, turning one of the four pegs in tandem. Once he had finished playing that peculiar tune, he reached into the darkness and pulled out a… long… stick? Rayla, at the expense of being redundant, asked herself, ‘Just WHAT is he DOING?’ He placed the stick straight in the middle over the instrument and took a deep breath. And, in the next breath he took, took her breath away. As his stick moved, his fingers danced upon the instrument. The indescribable melody took Rayla on an adventure. She felt the rush of wind and the feeling of leather upon her skin, of crows and green pastures that she had never- and would never- see. She saw cattle grazing, people playing with fans and cherry blossoms in the chill of midwinter, feathers dancing around an awestruck crowd. She ran and laughed and twirled in the petals of the hyacinths, played with people who she had never seen before, flew- then it all stopped. The boy stood, sobbing for breath, as his last note pealed through the air. He stood, panting, as the notes died away and the echoes began to fade. He began to pack his instrument up. Rayla looked on in wonder. ‘That was.. a song?’ She felt her cheeks and they came back wet, even more soaked than before he had came down to serenade the empty walls. As the boy scaled the stairs, she began to wonder. ‘Who was this kid? Why did he come down just to play that for me?’

‘Did he know I was there?’

As the thoughts swirled and hatched in her mind, she closed her eyes, finally content with the heat of the stone below her. How it became that warm, she will never know. However, she knew that it must have had something to do with that boy. She faded into a dreamless sleep, her face finally peaceful in her slumber. Opeli smiled from her place at the scrying bowl. “Callum, what have you done?” She stood up. “I must go. The step-prince awaits.” Her boots clacked against the floor, and the scrying bowl was clear once more, the final wisps of bluish magic fading away from its rim. “And so does she.”


	3. Butterfly Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AHAHA! I finally finished it! *fanfare* Well then, next chapter is either going to be steamy, or continues the plot. What say you guys? (ehehe I'm a bit worried about the first one oh boy)

The moonlight shone upon him, highlighting his cheekbones, his rough jaw, his haggard, sea-worn face. Silent, he sat, listening to the rush of the seawaves and the silent hum of the wind in his ears. The breeze played with his hair, just like Ethari did. ‘Ethari.’ He ducked his head, mind abuzz with unasked questions, unanswerable questions. Frowning, he reminded himself of the predicament he had gotten himself in.

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid!’ 

He growled, a deep rumbling noise that would have scared any pirate into submission. Any pirate, except for one. ‘One that will never forgive me.’ He wiped away the spray that had accumulated on his brow, ignoring the fact that some of the brackish water that he wiped away definitely didn’t come from the sea. He brewed over his foolish decision, guilt spreading through every inch of his body. The red-hot itch of shame set his nerves on fire, and he let out a choked sob. His hair fell over his face, covering his facial expressions from any passersby. He would have been grateful. He should have. But, at that moment, he mourned, not for the death of a child, or the death of a lover, but both. His love had been taken, his daughter captured, and he had done nothing. He was supposed to be there, an unshakeable pillar for his family. But, when the fateful moment came, when his character, his morals, was put under pressure, he had cracked. His decisions, his actions, his words- 

The tingling moved to pool in his eyes, and he let out another sob. A different sort of dampness moistened his face, and he made no move to wipe it away. 

“It..it was… my fault, wasn’t it?” he croaked. “I could’ve been there, guarding them, but I didn’t. I wasn’t there when they needed me most. What kind of father..am I?” 

The tears fell faster, and he could not stop them. He felt a soft touch on his shoulder, a whisper of air in his ear. “Everything...will be alright.” 

He looked behind him, confused, but saw nothing but the endless stretch of the moonlit beach and the gently lapping shore-bound waves. ‘Who.. what was that?’ 

The voice whispered, “That is none of your concern. What is of concern, however, is in the way in which you hold your loved ones. They are not dead, only sleeping, and you must find them. Moping will not get you anywhere.”

Runaan whipped his head around wildly, his cascading braids following his movements. “Where are you, then?” 

No more words followed, only the rush of the waves crashing upon the seashore. Shaking his head, he muttered to himself, “I must be seeing things. Runaan, get a hold of yourself!” He got up from his spot on the sand and began to brush off the excess particles in the same mindless pattern as he had done so many times and in so many different places. Shaking himself and stretching out his cramped-up muscles, he began formulating his next plan. ‘That- that voice was right. I can’t just sit here and mope. I made this mess, now it’s time for me to clean it.’ He took off in a dead sprint towards his ship. ‘I must. It is my duty.’ The voice’s owner smiled. ‘Everything is falling into place.’

‘Now Runaan, my ever so faithful pawn…. Where will you move next?’

\---------------------  
Ethari couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t smile, couldn’t scream, couldn’t- His body was moving on its own, spiraling and twisting through the murky water. He didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t care. He wanted out. To be alone. He had left his home, his love, his everything. He didn’t know how to make it better. Runaan’s words continued its little chant in his head, coalescing into a blackness that filled his head with not totally unwelcome whispers. ‘Your fault,’ it hissed. ‘Your fault.’ The blackness used to be only a little pinpoint of darkness, floating around in his headspace like a tiny scrap of metal adrift in water. As days passed, as time marched on, it grew and grew into an indiscriminate mass, a mess that devoured every other thought in his head. The merman shivered and weeped, even as he pushed himself to go faster, even as his muscles began to spasm. ‘It’s all my fault.’ His muscles gave out, and he sank to the seafloor, spent. ‘My fault…’ 

‘My fault.’

\-----------------

Ethari awoke to the feeling of gravel scraping on his scales. With a wince, he pushed himself upright, only to wince more at the feeling of his cramped muscles stretching and his joints popping underneath. ‘What.. what happened?’ He shook his head vigorously and rolled his neck, making satisfied noises from where he swam in place. Taking a quick look around, he noticed that the murky water from earlier was now a pretty turquoise shade, and he giggled as a small fish swam by his face. Sobering slightly, he turned toward the seashore and stared silently at the bottom part of the ship he had shared so many memories with. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Alright. Time to face the music.” He opened his eyes, determination blazing deep within their depths. “It’s time for me to fix things.” With a powerful beat of his tail, he powered toward his destination. 

It wasn’t long until he reached his goal. Sucking in a large gillful of water, he slowed to a stop at the hull of his and his husband’s ship. Rubbing his hands along the smooth wood, he swam along the edge of the hull, keeping an ear out for any witnesses. He admired the dents and splintering underside of the boat, sighing in relief when there was no sign of any ship activity since he last observed the hull. ‘Good. That means he didn’t try to look for the captors. If he did, he might’ve-’ The vibration of boots shifting the soft sand of the beach, then the knock of wood as they hit home on the pier, startled him out of his reverie. He shrank back from the hull a bit, frightened, as the footsteps slowed, then vibrated the hull, as if the hull itself was singing from the person’s very presence. His very presence… “Runaan,” he whispered. His heart sang at the thought of seeing him again, but his mind had other plans. ‘No, we can’t meet him right away. What if.. he’s still mad? He’d de-scale us!’ 

‘But we need to make things right again! If we don’t meet him, we’ll...’

‘No! We need to stay undercover for now!’

‘He’s freaking out! We need..’

‘We.. not..’

‘Must.. see him..’

His mind pulsed and buzzed angrily in his skull. He groaned and shook his head vigorously as the debate between heart and mind continued debating. 

‘We don’t have a choice! We need to see him NOW!’

‘No, no we don’t! We have to wait-’

The hull shook again. Ethari recoiled physically this time, propelling himself back in a desperate bid to avoid any unwanted gazes. ‘Did someone-’

A very familiar and very husky voice called out above the water, setting Ethari’s fins aquiver.

“Ethari?”

‘Oh no.’

His scales itched with panic. ‘Oh no. Oh, I can’t let him see me! No, no, no! Not like this! I’ve got to-”

“Ethari!” His voice, raspy from disuse or some other form of vocal trauma, filled the air and the sea below with its vibrations. The merman in question began to tremble, but out of fear or out of excitement, he couldn’t tell. ‘This is it. It’s now or never. I’ve got to talk to him.’ Summoning his courage from every tip of his fins, he swam closer to the source of the sound. He stuck his head out of the water with a quiet splash, only to find himself face to face with one very confused and tired-looking Runaan.

“Ahh!/Mother of Lunaris!” They both yelped and startled, Runaan stumbling back from his place on the edge of the boarding staircase, and Ethari knocking into the hull in shock. They stared at each other, wide-eyed. Ethari drank in every feature of his lover, full of bittersweet joy. Runaan’s face, usually stoic and meticulously clean, was streaked with tears of suffering and etched with suffering. His eyes, always so clear and sharp, were foggy and clouded with too much to drink. His hair, which he often braided with meticulous care or bundled into a neat bun, was tangled and snarled. Reluctantly, he swam away from the starved staring of his pirate, searching for the ladder frantically. Grabbing onto the ladder, he pulled himself up rung by rung, shivering at the feeling of air on his exposed skin. Reaching the top of the ladder, he flopped to the floor, spent. His tail wriggled, struggling to find purchase or any possible way of pulling himself upright from his face-down position of the floor. His pirate’s arms wrapped around his torso, and in a smooth motion, he found himself snugly bound by his lover’s arms. “Ethari.” The way Runaan said his name made his body tingle with exhilaration. “Runaan.” he breathed, wrapping his arms around his neck. His hair, tangled as it was, still felt like the finest silk as he weaved his fingers in it. Ethari reached his head up for a chaste kiss. Runaan had other plans. Runaan’s lips, chapped and rough, pressed against his forcefully. His tongue probed his lips, making the merman squeak. Ethari quickly pulled back. “R-runaan?”

Runaan stared back, longing and-something else lingering in his eyes. “I really missed you, ‘Thari. And tonight, I’m going to remind you that you’re mine.” He kissed Ethari on the cheek playfully, earning a nervous giggle for his efforts. “You’re all mine.” His eyes darkened with want. Ethari shivered.

‘Oh boy, tonight’s going to be a long night.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehehe, it looks like I might need to change the rating soon *winky winky*


	4. Poll: Will be deleted by May 16

Alright, I need your assistance with this. If you can, please vote on which way the story should go. I could either continue the plot, or I could add a bonus steamy chapter of some kind and then continue on. It's your choice. Thanks so much!

Well, some people seem to be a bit confused when I say 'continue on'. What I'm trying to say is, the steamy chapter is a bonus chapter, which will be sandwiched between chapter 3 and chapter 4 (which will be chapter 5, if the bonus is implemented.) Thanks for leaving your vote!

**Author's Note:**

> Ehehe, it looks like I'll need to change the rating soon *winky winky*


End file.
